It’s all about consistency. The consistency of mud, but consistency nonetheless.

11:00 running society. A matter of getting down the routine. Granted, today’s 11:00 start happened at 1:00, but still there’s a 1 and a couple of zeroes involved.

I’m running 5K a day at roughly the same daily pace, in the ballpark of 13:30. It’s got to improve eventually, right? But mostly it’s fun. Mo comes along and we get high on Red Bull and admire the views. I trot the straight, walk the turn. Patience. I have a race this weekend. In the words of the guy pretending to be president, we’ll see.

Today’s Discovery of the Day: Someone left a sun hat on the bench next to the track. Mo declared it made me look like a creepy elderly woman. Only later did I realize she didn’t mean it as a compliment. Oh, well. Back to the baseball cap. I hope she will still let me wear my running skirt.

There’s nobody on the track. I’m running in Lane 9. I should point out that there are nine lines on the track, A couple of laps in, two people show up to walk. And where are they walking? LANE 9!!! This is a breach of etiquette of unfathomable levels. I hate them so, so much. And to make things worse, the woman is wearing a jaunty French beret. There is no room for jaunty French berets on this track, missy. I trail them, quietly seething, and then swing around to Lane 7 as I pass them.

As it turns out, the woman is chatting in a heavy French accent. Obviously, the Track Rules of Etiquette state that a jaunty French beret IS acceptable if you’re actually French. And when I come around again, they have thoughtfully moved over to Lane 7. They are now my best friends. I love them so, so much. Is it to early to start worrying about what to get them for Christmas? Maybe a matching beret for the guy.

By this time, Mo has left the track to do the dirt loop, also annoyed by the couple. Mo has no patience.

Although it’s still freezing (barely made it to 60 today,) we had the first sign that spring is on the way: The first shot-putter sighting.

She’s wearing a “Canada” sweatshirt before peeling down to her workout clothes. Serious Shot-Put Shoes, two shot put thingies in their separate bags. Real deal. All shot putters here are serious, given that the pit is locked and you must have a key to get in. She has great form, big efforts. Fun to watch as I go around the track. I hope she hangs around a while.

And that’s that. I hit the stop button. The Garmin says I only need 24 hours to recover, which maybe is a good sign because similar paces before have wanted two days. Or maybe the Garmin is just making stuff up. Never trust a Garmin with a baby blu band.

We sit for a while in the sun. I think about how lucky I am to have spent so many days at this glorious place. This has got to be what heaven is like, except maybe nobody there wears French berets with funny accents. Jesus was an American.

We get into the warm car. It has the bubble gum scent of Red Bull. I lament having to wait 24 hours before we get to do it again. It’s all about consistency …